Good-bye Marianne Read Online Free PDF Page A

handing out pamphlets. One grabbed her arm.
    “Heil Hitler.
Here, sweetheart, take this home to your parents.” He pushed the pamphlet into her gloved hand. She didn’t dare throw it away, but walked on. A voice shouted after her, “Say ‘Heil Hitler’ next time.” Marianne heard them laughing, and the same voice said, “No respect, these kids.”
    What would they have done if they’d known she was a Jew? Marianne shuddered, remembering Inge Bauer. She still had a bruise under her chin. She pulled her scarf up around her face.
    Marianne turned down a side street. “I won’t run, I won’t.”
    Her mother always said, “If I had a magic wand, I’d use it to make you invisible. Meanwhile, whatever happens, don’t draw attention to yourself.”
    Marianne forced herself to continue her walk. She passed
Fraülein
Marks’s ladies’ and children’s wear. The door was boarded up and a big sign on the glass said, KEEP OUR STREETS JEW FREE .
    Marianne, hurrying past, slipped on the icy cobblestones. Trying to break her fall, she landed on her right knee. There was a hole in her woolen stocking, and she’d skinned her knee. It hurt.
    The pamphlet she’d been holding lay face up in the snow. The headline glared at her:
    THE JEWS LIE. BEWARE THE ENEMY.
    Underneath was a cartoon of an old man wearing a yarmulke – the skullcap that orthodox Jewish men wore. The cartoon showed a face with a huge hooked nose and sidelocks.
    Marianne was used to propaganda, to the ugly slogans she’d seen ever since she had learned to read, but she felt sick for a moment. It was a feeling she was getting used to. Was this whatHitler wanted, to make kids feel they were hated and not wanted by anyone?
    Marianne walked on. When she reached Taubenstrasse she heard footsteps behind her. Was she imagining that she was being followed, or were the Hitler Youth out to teach her a lesson? She knew they needed no excuse to twist an arm, or worse if you weren’t one of them, and they were everywhere.
    Marianne walked on for a few paces, listening. Then she stopped abruptly and looked into the window of a small leather-goods store. The footsteps stopped. Marianne walked more quickly. Her knee was bleeding; she could feel the drops trickling down her leg. There was a marketplace at the end of the street. There’d be lots of people there.
    She felt a hand on her shoulder, and a voice said, “Don’t be scared, it’s only me.” The sound of the motor-horn echoed in the quiet afternoon. Marianne whirled round. Ernest grinned at her. “I followed your tracks in the snow – watched you out of the window too. You’re a fast walker. Did you hurt yourself just now?”
    “I grazed my knee. It’s bleeding a bit. You are cheeky following me. Why didn’t you say something?” Marianne wasn’t going to let this country boy do as he liked in
her
city.
    “Don’t be mad. I’ve got to practise tracking suspects if I’m going to be a detective. Now, hold out your leg. Go on – I’ve got my first-aid badge.”
    Ernest took a handkerchief out of his pocket and folded it into a narrow bandage. Marianne held onto the wall for support,and raised her knee. Ernest knelt in the snow and bound up her leg most professionally. He finished by tying the bandage with a reef knot.
    “Thanks, that feels better. I knew I was being followed. I never guessed it was you, though. I have to buy a birthday present for my mother – you can come if you like,” said Marianne.
    “Shopping!” Ernest groaned. “That’s all you women ever do. But I can smell something cooking, and I’m starved. Let’s go.”
    Taubenstrasse led into a small square. Market stalls were set up, and a mixture of the most delicious smells filled the snowy air: hot chestnuts, gingerbread, fresh-baked rolls, oranges and vats of sauerkraut.
    Ernest went straight to a sausage stall. A woman wearing a shawl over a man’s overcoat topped by a huge white apron turned fat sausages on an open grill. They